Chapter 145: 145. Family Breakfast I
Maisie
I hated this place. I hated everything.
I’d hardly been able to catch a wink of sleep last night, having spent most of it tossing and turning, sobbing and screaming into my pillow at the unjust feeling in my chest and wondering if the Lycans were giving me the silent treatment because of what I’d said in the infirmary, considering the only words I’d gotten out of any of them that night was from Soren, who shoved a tray at my face.
"Eat."
He didn’t even look at me when he said it. None of them did.
And when I’d asked about Quinlan, I’d gotten a noncommittal, "He’ll be fine."
I wanted to leap out the window and go check on him. But at the thought of finding Tessa there, doting on him, loving up to him, I balked and hid under the covers like an idiot.
And of course, because I was a crazy person, I used my ninja skills and snuck into the infirmary anyway. I didn’t find him there.
On my way back, I found him. His bedroom was on the same floor and wing as mine. He’d been standing by the door, skin pale and sweaty and wrapped up in bandages, and Tessa had been in front of him, in a red flimsy, see-through chemise.
She had her fingers pressed to his chest, her head tipped up, wide with affection and vulnerability, and she was so much taller than me, the distance between their lips were non existent.
When he’d glanced up, I ducked behind the wall, panting, and sniffing, lips quivering as stupid tears rolled down my cheek.
I bet she knew always knew the right words to say. I bet she would make a better wife than I did when I was gone. I bet her perfect height would make sexual positions much better. I bet they’d make such beautiful, fair headed babies.
I had growled so hard into my pillows that my throat hurt so bad by morning.
And now, I was being forced out of bed for a family breakfast.
Whatever that meant.
I was washed, plucked free of all the hair on my skin and scrubbed raw. I suspected the maids hated me, and so they ’prepared’ me harder than necessary.
My hair was pulled back from my scalp into tight, intricate braids. My face was painted effectively. And then came the horror. I was shoved in a corset-like dress, a touch modern and a touch outdated, and I’d felt my ribs squeeze as the ropes were pulled.
"Is this..." I wheezed. "... necessary? It’s only breakfast."
Brynn hummed in agreement. "It is your first official introduction to the entire royal family. Breakfast is a mild term for what happens in those halls every morning." She shook her head. "You must look the part."
"The part is cosplaying a woman who got lost on her way to an eighteenth century’s Duke’s ball? Who even wears corsets anymore?" I grumbled.
Brynn glared at me. "What you lack in poise, you must at least, make up for in appearance."
"Do my husbands receive the same treatment, too? I bet Soren would look pretty in a fucking basket."
A maid choked on a cough. Brynn muttered something about ’foul mouthed brats’, and ordered that the ropes should be yanked even tighter, so that I had little breath to speak out of turn at the breakfast table.
In the daytime, the castle bustled with energy. Maids were running about in a frenzy, and every one seemed to have somewhere to be.
My jaw was on the floor for most of the walk to the main building as Brynn gave me a cold, yet intensive tour.
"The castle has stood for several centuries, built in a time when the royal family had several occupants that each heir needed a section to house their mates and pups."
Well, that explained the size of it. I’d never really noticed, considering the last time I was here, I had been fighting for my life. And last night didn’t exactly count for the best experience.
The castle was enormous. There were so many structures, all looking exactly the same, that it felt like I was walking through a room of mirrors.
"That," Brynn pointed at the little mansion we stepped out of. "Is the Crown Prince’s residence. For his guests, all two hundred of his personal staff, and eventually, his family, until he is coronated and moves to his Queen’s residence."
She pointed at an even larger structure in the distance that was nearly twice the size of Soren’s. I tried not to gape at it. "It’s huge."
Brynn nodded. "Well, the first Queens rarely ever kept their activities within their bonds. They were more... liberal. They took mates with humans, wolves, and Lycans. The latter they bonded with, the former, they kept as bed slaves. The wolves... they never really got along with, but they were entertainment. Clearly, they needed the space to avoid friction between all of the men."
I was amazed by this. It wasn’t lost on me that a little while ago, when Brynn had given me a version of this same topic, I had been appalled.
Now, I was blurting questions that would make my friends wonder if I had lost my decency along with my virginity.
"So how did that work? She called on them differently? Like there was a different man for every day of the week?"
A passing member of court shot me a funny look, and I flushed, remembering everyone could hear me.
Brynn thought about it for a moment. "I suppose there must have been some kind of sleeping arrangement. I hear the third Queen, an Ivanov, made her men duel every day in the yard for who got her attention for the week."
A laugh escaped me. "With all that fighting, it explains why they’re all ripped. She kept them busy."
"In more ways than one," Brynn’s lips twitched and I snickered gracelessly.
And then, Brynn remembered she was not supposed to be cozying up to the ’traitor’s daughter’, and she began scowling like I had tricked her into doing something bad.
We walked past another glamorous structure with the crest of a golden eagle. "That is the Grahams’."
I tried not to scowl at it. It was beautiful and shiny, just like Tessa and I forced my gaze away as I began to feel the familiar burn of jealousy in my chest.
Oblivious to my lack of interest, Brynn said, "It’s been nine generations since there’s been a Queen from the Graham line. It is amazing that they have maintained power since then. Though, I imagine in the recent years, they have become a little more... eager."
I frowned. "Is the crown not passed through bloodlines by inheritance?"
Brynn pinched her chin, and all she would’ve needed to complete the nerdy look was a pair of glasses. "Mostly. But it largely depends on the crown’s acceptance."
"The crown?"
She nodded. "You must have noticed it at some point. It is... sentient. The ruby at its center. They call it the Goddess’s Eye. Ancient texts say it is her way of watching over us by choosing who she deems strong enough to bear the weight of the throne."
I couldn’t hold back my surprise. "What happens when the crown rejects the heir?" I hurried to match her stride, having a billion questions. "Does it speak? Blink twice? Oh, I know. It burns, doesn’t it? How bad? Set their hairs on fire kind of bad?"
Brynn shot me an exasperated look. "It won’t fit."
"Huh?"
"What did I say about non-existent syllables in your vocabulary, Your Highness?" Brynn muttered, shaking her head. "It expands or contracts to fit the head of its wearer. And in the case that it doesn’t fit..."
She tracked off. "Well, it’s been so long since that happened, no one alive knows what happens in that case. But it isn’t common. In fact, the crown has been with the Blacks for the last five generations. It’s caused a bit of angst among other houses. Which is why there are Exiles. Those who think they stand a fair chance, too."
A solemn silence fell, just as we walked past another structure.
Brynn made no comments about it, or the fact that it looked deserted. The small garden around it was overgrown, and there was ivy and weeds climbing over the walls. It looked like no one had been there in a long time.
"And that one?"
Without looking, Brynn said, "That would be the Hunt’s."
I stared a little longer at the lonely, rundown building, feeing uneasy at simply walking past it, like I was being pulled towards something in that direction. I didn’t notice I had stopped walking until Brynn cleared her throat. "This way, Your Highness."
Our tour had come to an end. We had arrived at the Queen’s residence.
